


I Owe Every Breath to You

by Skitz_phenom



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Goes AU before Season 4, Light Angst, M/M, Magic Revealed, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24496165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skitz_phenom/pseuds/Skitz_phenom
Summary: Returning after a journey that kept them far from Camelot for many weeks, Merlin finds himself dutifully trailing a strangely reticent Arthur to his chambers. Once inside he expects things to proceed as they normally would - a meal, a bath, getting Arthur settled for bed - but that mercurial mood persists and things progress in a (welcome) direction that Merlin certainly didn't expect.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 891
Collections: Scruffy Pendragon Fest





	I Owe Every Breath to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siennavie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siennavie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [ART for "I Owe Every Breath to You"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24508525) by [siennavie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siennavie/pseuds/siennavie). 



> Once again, I was graciously gifted the opportunity to work with the amazing [Siennavie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siennavie)! She created a truly gorgeous piece of art for the Scruffy Pendragon Fest and... well, to say that it inspired me is an understatement of massive proportion! It is glorious!! 
> 
> Go smother her with heaps of praise and likes and reblogs [HERE](https://siennavie.tumblr.com/post/619772540825550848/ficart-for-scruffypendragon-fest-i-owe-every)
> 
> This is largely unbeta'd due to major last-minute changes, but thanks to 'J' for all that you could do with what you had! And thanks to the mods of such a fun-filled Fest! Scruffy Arthur is everything!!

"Camelot," Arthur breathed; weary and relieved in equal measure. 

"Almost home," Merlin agreed. 

He looked past Arthur, guiding his horse the few final paces necessary to bring him fully out of the woods, and stared out over the sprawl of the valley below. Further beyond a smudge of green on the distant horizon that he knew to be the fringes of the Darkling Woods, the spires and parapets of the castle and the busy, colorful sprawl of the town laid out below it were just visible.

"Think we'll make it before nightfall?" he asked, less because he didn't know the answer but more because Arthur was staring ahead, vacant-eyed and frowning, clearly lost in heavy thought. 

The gambit worked and snapped Arthur out of his reverie. He squinted a moment and then nodded. "Perhaps sundown; no later. And that's if we spare the horses the whole way."

Merlin patted his own mount on the neck. They'd been riding mostly through woods and over rocky, hilly terrain, or following vague memories of roads, overgrown and encroached on by the wild; it hadn't been the quickest leg of their journey. Their horses would likely be eager for a bit of speed.

"Come on," Arthur said and gave a tap to his stallion's barrel, urging him ahead. The road – the proper, well-traveled main thoroughfare that would lead them right to the gates of Camelot – was only a half mile further, and there they could increase their pace considerably.

Silently, Merlin followed Arthur's lead and clucked at his own mare to get her moving after him. They set off at an easy jog. 

Arthur stayed quiet as they rode. Not that he'd been particularly garrulous throughout the day's ride, but they’d managed to keep up a relatively steady bit of chatter and banter earlier. Or at least Merlin had, while Arthur made a variety of noises – hums and scoffs and derisive sniffs – in response to Merlin's deliberate prattle. As they rode on though, even Merlin couldn't find it in him to keep that up. All that he could focus on was getting home.

They'd been away from Camelot for what felt like the whole of a season, taking a tour along the boundaries and borders of the lands, so Arthur could reaffirm his allegiances with neighboring kingdoms, as well as check in with distant vassals. Since Uther had... well, fallen ill, as was the story they'd share with subject and ally alike (that he'd seemingly succumb to madness at Morgana's betrayal was a secret best kept close and known to few) and rule of Camelot had ostensibly fallen to Arthur. 

He'd stepped into his father's position with grace and surprising humility, and even Merlin was forced to admit he wore the crown well. After getting settled though, he'd begun to chafe at the rumors and hints that rulers and leaders that Uther had once called 'friend' were questioning the status of the tenuous relationships between their lands and Camelot with an 'unknown and untried' king. Missives and reassurances had to suffice until the opportunity presented itself for Arthur to make the weeks long sojourn the situation called for. It arrived in the form of his uncle Agravaine – his Mother's brother – who’d come to Camelot some weeks back and was acting the role of leader-in-situ once Arthur trusted that things were quiet enough for him to make such a long, but much-needed journey. 

Merlin hadn't gotten to know much of Agravaine in the short time before they’d left, but he wasn't overly fond of the man. Of course, that could've just been because Agravaine was dismissive of Merlin's service to Arthur, and frequently insisted Merlin leave Arthur's side when they spoke of matters of state, when previously Arthur would not have cared a whit about Merlin's presence. So, while he had his doubts about Arthur's uncle, he _was_ glad that Arthur had someone to aide him so he could take such a necessary but lengthy absence from the kingdom.

They'd set-out as a full complement, as befitting a king on tour. A score of knights, four full squads of guards, a dozen wagons, campaign tents and a handful of servants. It was, as Arthur had explained, akin to a small army, but without the martial intent; and no less than what was expected for a royal tour of such nature.

And, it had proved a fruitful journey. They'd reaffirmed ties and alliances with Gawant, Nemeth, Dyfed and Deorham, discovered a matter of unrest in Othanden and gotten word of encroachment into the Vale of Deneria by Caerleon. 

Once those matters of state were concluded, Arthur had then decided he wanted to continue beyond just visiting neighboring kingdoms and vassals; to go into the towns and villages and personally reassure himself as to the welfare of his people. So, eventually the large tents and wagons and the bulk of troops were sent back to Camelot, leaving just a small group; Arthur, a handful of knights and Merlin, of course.

They'd crossed one end of the kingdom to the other over the course of a month and the absence of pomp and the simple company of friends as they went from village to village, had been a largely rowdy and joyous few weeks. 

Just shy of a fortnight ago, after arriving for a few final days respite in Ealdor, Arthur had sent Leon and the others back, to ready for his return, declaring that he and Merlin would conclude the final leg of the journey alone. (He’d excused it as worrying over his horse having bruised his foot on a stone, but Merlin suspected that he’d only done it to give Merlin a bit more time with his mother.)

And they had _planned_ on following only a day or two later, but then a violent storm blew through the village and the resulting injuries saw Merlin playing the role of physician while Arthur aided the villagers – down a few able bodies – in getting the first of the barley crops in. 

Merlin knew that as the days went on Arthur felt more and more conflicted: his duty and need to return home to check on the state of the kingdom, as well as his father, butting up against the simplicity of being away from the weight of it all. So, perhaps they'd lingered a _few_ days longer than they'd needed in Ealdor, spending mornings and afternoons helping with all sorts of chores for any one of the villagers who asked, and evenings with Merlin's mother over simple, hearty food and the warmth of a hearth fire.

Content, he'd simply let Arthur take the lead those last few days – waiting patiently and uncharacteristically silent – for him to make the decision on when to return. And two days ago, he'd tapped a boot against Merlin's hip where he slept on the floor and muttered, "C'mon. Up with you. Gather our gear. We ride for Camelot today."

Of course, leaving hadn't been that easy and they'd ended up staying long enough to break fast with Hunith, and once word spread of their leaving, to say farewells and accept small tokens of gratitude – mostly in the way of baked goods – and it wasn't until late afternoon they finally rode out. 

The night prior, they'd both been subdued around the campfire; although there was a strange, comfortable camaraderie to it. They each fell into their tasks without needing to speak and the supper they'd shared over their small fire – a quick stew supplemented by one of the gifted bread loaves – was equally quiet and companionable. Rousing the following morning had been much the same: a quick meal and silent work, side-by-side, until they mounted up and got on the move. It had taken them much of the morning to cross over the Ridge and then struggle through the Forest of Ascetir.

Merlin was glad to have left the rough terrain and dank, dim woods behind.

Though, as much as he looked forward to reaching the keep and castle and seeing his friends and sleeping in his bed… he knew he was going to miss _this_. Miss… Arthur.

At least, Arthur as he’d come to know him.

He’d hardly been away from Arthur’s side during the whole of their long trip, and certainly not longer than a few hours. When they’d started out, the full company, Arthur had put a second cot in his own massive tent for Merlin to use, with the explanation that he wanted Merlin on hand at all times (and he’d jested that _someone_ needed to keep him from sneaking out to find a tavern).

Even while guests of their allies – put up in elegant rooms in castles or fortresses – Merlin almost always found himself in adjoining servant’s quarters. And, unless questioned about it, Arthur thought nothing of having Merlin tend him during meetings with the kings and nobles.

Once they’d pared down to the smaller party, the two of them had often ganged up with Leon or Lancelot to mercilessly tease Elyan or Percival or – most often – Gwaine. They’d been a rowdy bunch, yet whether they were settled around campfires or crammed in tight lodging in humble inns, Merlin’s bedding had always been laid next to Arthur’s.

Finally, when it was just the two of them in Ealdor, almost all remnants of formality had fallen away. Hunith certainly thought nothing of ordering Arthur to pull runner beans from the garden while she sent Merlin off on another chore. They’d slept on the floor, starting top-to-tail, until Arthur got a heel jammed in his throat – courtesy of Merlin sleep-flailing – and then he just grumbled as he doubled the bedding and shared the thin pillows.

It was only after they’d left the bucolic village, knowing that responsibility and a return to ‘normal’ lay in wait, that Arthur’s mood shifted. He’d gone quiet, contemplative. And Merlin knew that things would have to go back to the way they’d been before; when he and Arthur were bound more tightly by the limits of their station, and propriety said they were no more than master and servant.

He didn’t know when he’d ever felt so torn.

~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur's prediction proved correct; once they'd reached the road and let the horses have their rein, they made quick time to Camelot. Riding in through the postern gate, the sun still hung a hands-span over the far horizon and the fiery orange and yellow hues held the orchid shades of dusk at bay. 

Merlin had to laugh as they navigated the still busy streets of the lower town and hardly anyone gave them a sideward glance. Not a single person jumped out of their way to bow in obeisance, or called out a respectful greeting, and he heard Arthur's low chuckle when a few actually swore under their breath at having to make way for their horses. In the last fortnight, Arthur had traded in the chain and gambeson for simple travel clothes. His hair had grown quite unruly and he'd foregone shaving, so had the early – if somewhat haphazard – growth of a beard upon his chin.

Merlin likely didn't look much different than usual, perhaps a bit more careworn, but then he rarely went remarked in town.

One or two did notice the Camelot red cloak that Arthur had messily flung over his shoulders – wondering aloud if he was some knight or other – but as it was mostly tucked away, bunched between his back and the cantle and not draped over the stallion's haunches, it went mostly unseen.

Its presence proved a good thing, though, when they reached the royal stables. Merlin could see as Tyr approached that he eyed them with some confusion. 

"I'm sorry, good sirs." Tyr began, apologetic but firm. "But this is the Royal Stables, and none else are allowed. The public stables are..." he trailed off as he finally spotted the dust-dulled but still very distinct golden thread of the embroidered dragon on the cloak that Arthur yanked partially out from beneath his seat. And then he really _looked_ at Arthur, and his florid face went pale.

"You... your highness! I'm sorry, I didn't –”

Arthur waved the apology away before Tyr could finish making it. "Don't worry yourself, Tyr. I know I don't look the part right this moment. And it's a job well done, eh?" he added as he dismounted. "I'd be concerned if you were letting just any old ruffian leave their horse in your care. I know we don't present the most uh, dignified picture…" he glanced down at himself and then back up with chagrin. "Well, let's just say your diligence is well-founded." He laughed, sounding light and genuinely amused. 

Tyr gave a polite, if slightly still nervy, chuckle. "Thank you, sire." He took hold of the stallion's bridle while Arthur collected his sword and then led the sweat-flecked animal over to one of the grooms. 

As Arthur moved to wait at the edge of the stable yard, Merlin eased himself out of his saddle and gathered his satchel and a set of saddlebags – leaving the rest of their gear to be unloaded by the grooms – and then stepped around the horse to hand his reins off. 

"Oh, Merlin, hello," Tyr greeted cheerily. "Glad to have you back."

"Thank you, Tyr. It’s good to be back," Merlin replied. He might've stayed to chat longer any other time, but Arthur's glance told him lingering would be unwise. With a nod, he hurried over to join Arthur. 

Even as he grabbed hold of Merlin's tunic and tugged him forward, Arthur called over his shoulder, "See that those two get a good rubdown and a bit extra in their feed."

Tyr patted Merlin’s mare on her cheek, fond and a little possessive, and then gave a dutiful nod. "I will, sire."

Merlin knew that he'd have done it without being asked – Tyr took his duties seriously – but he always appreciated it when Arthur showed that extra bit of care. 

Stepping into place at Arthur's shoulder, he followed as they walked the cobbled causeway and into the central courtyard. A few of the guards eyed them strangely, and Merlin hurried forward, spinning so that he walked backward in front of Arthur. "Wait a moment," he urged.

Though he glowered, Arthur did pause. "What is it?" 

Boldly, Merlin reached out to comb his fingers through Arthur's rather bedraggled, overlong hair, brushing it away from his face. "Your guards are staring at you like they might need to draw swords," he explained. Arthur rolled his eyes but stood patiently for Merlin's ministrations long enough for him to finish tidying his hair, and to untangle the twisted mess of Arthur's cloak so it flowed over his shoulders. When he stepped back, he looked Arthur up and down. Still not wholly recognizable, thanks to the scruffy beard and the commoner's wardrobe, he at least looked much more regal.

The actions seemed to settle something within Arthur, however, and he rolled his shoulders back and lifted his chin and suddenly Merlin knew none would mistake Arthur for a mere knight or guard. 

"Come along, Merlin," Arthur huffed, shouldering past him and continuing towards the steps to the castle. 

A quick glance showed that the guards who'd been eyeing Arthur warily were now quite deliberately looking aside in feigned nonchalance. Arthur must've realized Merlin’s motivation at the same time because he uttered a very low-voiced, "Thank you."

When he swept past the guards and up the steps, they bowed their heads deferentially. Arthur gave a sideways grin and inclined his head in return as if to say, "Yes, your king looks a bit of a mess, but he's still your king."

Merlin hurried up the steps after him and as much as he was hoping they'd head right for their rooms, entering the castle foyer showed there'd be no such luck. Agravaine was waiting, as were Leon and Gwen. They all seemed to rush forward at once, calling out greetings in a muddled chorus.

Arthur rocked to a halt and let out an amused huff. "Good of you all to welcome me."

Gwen curtsied, though it was hurried and informal, and Leon just nodded, looking both relieved and pleased to see his friend and liege returned. 

"Welcome back, Arthur," Agravaine said, putting a hand on Arthur's shoulder. 

"Thank you, Uncle," he replied. "How stands my kingdom?"

"Very well, sire. There are a few things that will need your atten –”

Arthur lifted a hand, cutting him off. "Anything that cannot absolutely wait until morning?" he asked, squinting one eye and giving a mock grimace.

Agravaine paused a moment and then shook his head, "Nothing, sire," he finally admitted with a heavy sigh. He took a step back. He was smiling softly, like he shared Arthur's amusement, but Merlin thought there was something oddly irritated in his expression. 

"Leon," Arthur said, turning to his senior knight. "Anything to report?"

Leon knew better and he just shook his head, teeth bared in a grin. "Nothing that can't wait, sire."

Chuckling, Arthur nodded. "Good man." Lastly, his attention moved to Gwen. "Guinevere?"

"Arthur, welcome home." They both awkwardly stepped toward each other and managed – after a few fits and starts of leaning wrong and bumping arms – an equally awkward embrace. 

As he stepped back, Arthur haltingly asked, "Um, how fares my father?"

While she filled him in, Merlin reflected that it would likely still take some time for the pair of them to appear comfortable with each other. When they'd come back from Ealdor those few months ago, after Morgana's siege, things had cooled between them. For once, Merlin hadn't been privy to the details, but he knew that with Uther's failing health and Arthur's unexpected need to take the throne, both had stepped back from the relationship. He wasn't sure of the nature of things entirely, but he suspected from the stilted way they'd just acted, things were closer to ended rather than merely on hold. 

It probably hadn’t helped that Lancelot had been back in Camelot the last two weeks, giving them plenty of time to reconnect.

Gwen's expression stayed pleasant while she spoke, and she concluded with, "In fact, I do think I've seen some improvement. Gaius agrees with me."

Arthur brightened considerably at that. "Should I go see him?" 

Uther's care had been wholly given over to Gaius and Gwen's hands – the only people Arthur trusted with him – and so when Gwen shook her head reluctantly and said, "He's asleep, but I'm sure he'd –”

Arthur shook his own head, talking over her. "No, no. That's fine, Gwen. I'll see him in the morning. I'd rather he rests. Perhaps he and I can have breakfast if he's feeling well enough?"

Her smile returned, bright and beaming. "I'm sure he'd enjoy that very much."

Taking a step back to face all three of them once again, Arthur spoke. "If there's nothing else," he paused a very short moment to give any of them a chance to contradict, and then hurried on, "then, I hope you understand if I retire early. It's been far too many days since I've slept in my own bed." He laughed, sounding lighter and freer than he had since they'd first walked into the castle.

"Of course, Arthur. You've had a long journey," Agravaine agreed. "We'll speak tomorrow then. Welcome home." He gave a curt half-bow and then turned sharply on a heel.

"I look forward to it, Uncle," Arthur called after him.

Leon seemed to relax once Agravaine disappeared, turning a corner in the long hall. He clapped Arthur on the arm. "I like the new look,” he remarked, smoothing his fingers over his own well-kept beard. “Training tomorrow?" 

Arthur laughed, rubbing his knuckles against his own scruff briefly, and then he nodded, grin going wicked. "Certainly. I can't let my knights continue slacking, as I'm sure they've been doing in my absence."

Shaking his head in amusement, Leon left them with a cheery, "I'm sure they'll be more than happy to show you how fit they are." His laughter followed him as he headed toward the barracks.

Gwen started to turn away as well then paused. "Oh, I hope you don't mind but I've taken the liberty of having the servants draw a bath for you."

Though he hid it well, the groan of relief Arthur clearly wanted to make still partially eeked out. "Mind? I'm grateful. Thank you, Guinevere."

Behind Arthur, Merlin mouthed his own genuine 'Thank you', because he'd assumed Arthur would want a bath and hadn't been looking forward to hauling buckets up and down the stairs from the kitchens after spending the last two days in the saddle.

"Would you also mind having dinner sent up? Enough for me and for Merlin as well?" 

As Arthur couldn't see him, Merlin was relieved that Arthur wasn't witness to his brief startle.

Gwen, bless her, didn't react outwardly, but Merlin knew the request must've made her curious. "Of course, Arthur. I'll see to it." She flashed a quick, unsteady smile, glanced between the pair of them in a blink – too quick to be called speculation – and then hurried towards the kitchens.

"Um," Merlin began haltingly. "I um, well, I thought I'd go to my room and uh..." he let the thought carry into silence.

Arthur started at him a long moment and then nodded curtly. "Of course." The words were clipped, almost in... disappointment?

Merlin hefted his satchel and the saddlebags, "I'll uh, just drop this off and say hello to Gaius. Then, uh. I can tend your bath and ready you for bed." He didn't mention the meal.

"Very good," Arthur replied, equally abrupt, although that barely-there tension seemed to leave his shoulders as he nodded again. His eyes lingered on Merlin a very long moment – something a little wild and mercurial in their depths – and then he was off, striding down the hall. 

Spurred by the strange frisson of energy that seemed to linger even after Arthur departed, Merlin hurried to the stairs that led to Gaius' chambers. He burst in and Gaius looked up from where he was stood at his worktable.

"Oh, Merlin!" he cried out in delight. "You're back."

"Hello, Gaius!" Merlin let the bags fall and crossed the few steps so that he could catch him in a firm hug. 

Patting him hard on the back, Gaius intoned, "Welcome back, my boy." He pulled away but kept Merlin at arm's length through his grip on Merlin's shoulders. "It's been rather quiet around here these last weeks." Sparse brows dipping inward, he studied Merlin's face a moment. "Did all go well?"

Merlin hurriedly nodded. "Oh, yes. The standing treaties were renewed, and we visited what felt like every village in the whole of Camelot. I think the people really appreciated seeing their king willing to mingle with noble and commoner alike. It was a long time away, but well worth it I think.”

"Good, that's very good to hear, my boy." Gaius gave his arms a last squeeze and then let go and stepped back a pace. "It's very good to have you back," he said, tone softening fondly. Then he capped the sentiment with a very put-upon sigh. "I suppose I'll have to adjust to the noise and chaos once more." He belied the comment with a wink.

Picking up his satchel and bags, Merlin chuckled, "Well, you'll get to enjoy your silence just a bit longer."

"Oh?"

"Arthur," Merlin said, letting the sigh of his name and the put-upon tone stand as explanation.

Gaius immediately understood, his knowing nod and, "Ah, of course," speaking volumes. 

"Just let me take care of this." Merlin gestured towards his room and then scrambled past Gaius and into his chamber. The scent of disuse – still air and dust and musty linens – hung in the air, and after throwing his pack on the bed, he propped open the shutter on the window to let the night air in. 

He likely didn't have time to fully refresh himself – though he would definitely give himself a good washing once he was finished up with Arthur – but he did switch out his tunic for one that hadn't been either stuffed in his pack or worn the better part of two days, and didn't smell of horse and campfire and sweat. He found one at the back of his cupboard – still folded and only slightly wrinkled; a deep purple he'd not worn in some time – and shrugged that on. Habit had him tying on a clean neck scarf as well; another older one in rich cobalt.

The only trousers he had to change into were a loose, thin pair that he often worn to sleep in on cooler nights. It was a bit of a haphazard outfit – and one he'd rather not wear publicly for too long – but as he didn't have time to wait for laundry, it would have to do. If Arthur didn't like it, that was too bad. He was the one insisting Merlin come to his quarters right away.

Gaius looked up at him when he finally stepped into the main chamber. "You seem in an awful hurry." While a brow rose, if he had any remarks on Merlin's wardrobe, he – very kindly – kept them to himself.

Merlin gestured with a thumb over his shoulder. "Arthur, you know. He's got to have his bath and be readied for bed. You'd think after sleeping in tents and on the ground for days on end he'd leave off the comforts for one night." Although he complained, Gaius' amused expression told him that he wasn't doing too well at covering up his fondness. 

"Of course, Merlin." He waved Merlin on and gave him a light shove as he passed. "Go on now. Don't keep our king waiting."

When he reached the door, Merlin paused. "Oh, uh, I didn't miss anything while I was gone, did I?" He probably should've asked that early on.

"No, remarkably with both you and Arthur gone from the castle, nothing unusual or untoward happened." Gaius' eyes sparkled with mirth and he chortled. 

Though he huffed, mock-irritably, Merlin also laughed. "We'll catch up tomorrow then. Over breakfast?"

"Of course, my boy. It's good to have you home."

"It's good to be home, Gaius." Merlin let the words follow him out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

It couldn't have taken him overly long to drop his things off, change clothes and speak with Gaius just those few minutes, but when he got to Arthur's room and knocked – and then immediately let himself in as Arthur's voice echoed, "Come in!" through the door – he opened it to find that Arthur was already soaking in the tub.

"There you are," Arthur stated; almost an accusation. 

Merlin closed the door behind him and then glanced at the table. Seeing it laid with a pair of heaping trays and full goblets, he closed the latch as well. Arthur didn't like leaving the door unlocked while bathing. (Merlin suspected he'd been walked in on one too many times). 

"Sorry," Merlin explained, "just saying hello to Gaius."

Arthur waved that away with a lazy flip of his hand, splashing it shallowly through the water. "There's supper," he said with a nod.

"Oh!" He'd been assuming he’d get right to work on readying Arthur for the bath, but with that already out of his hands, his next thought was to get started sorting Arthur's belongings that had been brought up from the stables, or turning down the bed or even polishing armor. Instead Arthur was inviting him to sit down and eat.

Half expecting some jest, Merlin hesitated.

Arthur rolled his eyes quite dramatically. "Sit down and eat, Merlin."

"All right, fine." Merlin did just that. 

Each plate was full and still steaming and Merlin wasn't going to protest tucking into a hot meal any further. Especially one that he didn't have to cook! Even though it had only been a couple of days of camp stew and trail rations – while they rode that last leg of the trip from Ealdor – Merlin was still glad to enjoy the home-cooked meal of pan-seared chicken with roasted turnips, onions and fennel, all blanketed in a flavorsome herb gravy. 

The sounds of Arthur's bathing echoed around the room while Merlin slowly savored the rich food and an indulgent two goblets of dark, red wine. By the time he’d finished his meal, he looked over to see Arthur scrubbing soap and a handcloth over his hair. 

"I'll get the rinse-water," Merlin offered. 

Arthur didn't reply aloud – as he was scrubbing his face – but he did nod.

There was a bucket of water that had been left to warm by the hearth, and he carried it over and then poured it slowly over Arthur's head, sluicing away the thin film of soap. Arthur had leaned forward, head bowed, his back broad and Merlin marveled at the way his overlong hair now trailed down past the bumps of his spine. When it was dry it would curl slightly, just at the base of Arthur's skull, but he was surprised to see its length when straight and sleek and dark, burnished gold against Arthur's fair skin. 

Realizing he'd been staring – likely quite noticeably – as the water spilling over Arthur's wide shoulders and that tantalizingly gleaming hair had slowed to a trickle, he tipped the final dregs of the bucket and then set it down. He hurried to fetch a large drying cloth for Arthur and then held it out as Arthur surged up in the tub. He stood dripping a moment – while Merlin carefully averted his eyes – and then stepped over the high side of the rounded tub and into the cloth, letting Merlin wrap it around him. He took over tucking it in place at his hip while Merlin unfurled a second towel to drape over his shoulders, like a cloak.

He took up a third cloth and pressed it against Arthur's head, soaking up the excess water in the sodden strands. Then he scrubbed it over Arthur's hair, ruffling and mussing it until the towel was too damp to do any more good. Letting it fall to the floor, he moved his hands to Arthur's shoulders, rubbing briskly to dry his torso, and Arthur stood patiently until Merlin moved in close enough that his shoulder brushed Arthur’s chest.

Nose wrinkling, Arthur stepped back. 

Merlin looked down at the towel still in his hands and then at himself, realizing the meaning of Arthur's reaction. "I changed my clothes," he protested.

Arthur’s eyes rolled dramatically. "Putting a clean tunic over a filthy body isn't going to do much for the smell.”

“Well you didn't exactly give me time to do much more than that.”

Scoffing, Arthur waved a hand. "Just, get in the bath."

"I'm sorry?" Merlin couldn't have heard him correctly.

But he repeated the gesture. "The water's still warm and it's likely to be cleaner than you currently are. And I don't want my room smelling of horse, so... get in the bath.”

“Oh... okay.”

Arthur snatched the towel Merlin still held and continued drying himself, obviously considering the matter decided, and with nothing else for it, Merlin stepped behind the changing screen to undress.

It felt quite awkward doing so in Arthur's chambers. At the same time, though, he wasn't wholly opposed to the idea of bathing. He wasn't often given the luxury of a full bath in something as large as Arthur's round tub. So, as odd as it felt to strip naked anywhere other than his own room, he couldn’t protest the thought of being clean. He didn't even mind that Arthur had been in there first. There was plenty of water and soap. 

He peeked out around the screen once he'd stripped down, and if he'd been worried or apprehensive about Arthur seeing him fully naked, he needn’t have been. Arthur was still wearing just the towel around his waist, but he'd moved to sit at the table, to eat Merlin figured, and his back was to Merlin. Still, he quickly padded the few steps over to the tub and scrambled in.

The water was just a bit warmer than tepid, so he murmured a quick, and nearly inaudible, “Onhǽte þá wæter,” to warm it, just a fraction – and then let out a blissful sigh as the water heated around him. He soaked for a few minutes, letting the warmth and herbed salts soothe the aches and pains lingering after so many days of travel. Even their extended stopover in Ealdor hadn't provided this kind of relief. 

Arthur's washing cloth was still laying over the side where he'd left it, and Merlin fished around until he found the cake of soap. Unlike the crumbly harsh soap he was used to, Arthur's was creamy and less coarse and scented with clove and thyme.

He copied Arthur's earlier actions as a guide and scrubbed his hair as well, once he’d finished his body. After his scalp began to tingle from his aggressive scrubbing, he began scooping handfuls of water over his head to rinse. Suddenly he felt warm water splash on his nape. He nearly started, until he realized it was Arthur, returning the favor of rinsing him off with a fire-warmed bucket. Luckily Merlin had managed not to gasp too heavily, so he just sputtered a moment and then leaned forward, wrapped his arms around his shins and let the water stream down. It felt ridiculously good; though whether it was the warmth of the liquid seeping into his bones, or the fact that it was Arthur who was tending to him, Merlin couldn't say for certain.

"There you go," Arthur said quietly when he was done. 

At the sound of Arthur's footsteps retreating, Merlin flipped his hair up and opened his eyes to see Arthur disappear behind his changing screen. Merlin started to stand but then remembered he was nude, and he'd left his clothes behind the screen and had only brought over the towels he'd already used on Arthur. He looked around for one of Arthur's discarded cloths, only to see that Arthur had upended the bucket close by and stacked another pair of the soft drying cloths atop it. 

When Arthur paraded around in only his towel, nearly naked, Merlin would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the view, but he suspected Arthur might not feel the same, so he hurried to dry off. By the time Arthur stepped out from behind the dressing screen – barefoot and wearing his thin, billowy white sleep tunic and lightweight trousers – Merlin had a towel tight around his hips and another draped over him like a shawl. 

Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes. "Really, Merlin?" 

"It's chilly," Merlin muttered, feeling oddly defensive. Still, he'd not let himself be cowed by Arthur in a very long time, so he dragged the top cloth away and let it fall to floor and then he strode past Arthur bare-chested, and very deliberately dropped the second towel as he stepped behind the screen.

He thought he heard a low chuckle.

Stepping into the clean smallclothes and trousers and tunic felt so much better when clean. He buckled his belt around his waist and loosely tied the neckerchief around his neck.

"Merlin,” Arthur’s voice called from somewhere in the room. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you neglected to change your socks. Don't even think of putting those foul things back on."

As he’d been about to do that very thing, Merlin paused and blew out a sigh. “Then what am I supposed to wear with my boots?”

“Leave them off for now.”

“Leave them…” Merlin let his repetition trail to silence.

Dinner, a bath… going barefoot in the king’s chambers?

There was something happening here; something Arthur was taking deliberate steps to orchestrate.

Merlin cautioned himself not to get his hopes up; this could just be Arthur, exhausted and still not quite back in the mindset of being home, in Camelot. It didn’t have to mean… anything. Still, Merlin felt his pulse jump, and he fought to appear calm when he stepped out from behind the screen.

Arthur was seated on his bed, casually, with one leg bent in front of him and the other hanging over the edge of the mattress. He had his comb in his hands and he waggled it at Merlin. “Help me with this, would you?”

Though it was an instruction, it came out low and just a bit rough.

Nodding dutifully, Merlin crossed over to the bed, but before he could move to Arthur’s side, Arthur shook his head. “No,” he said, patting the mattress. “Here. It’s a better angle.”

Heart lurching in his throat, making his breath come fast and thready, Merlin obeyed. He tried leaning across the wide span at first, until Arthur’s scoff told him that wouldn’t be good enough. Then, he sat, positioning himself in a mirrored pose. Still, Arthur shook his head and he patted the thick bedcovers again; a small smile played at his lips.

Merlin swallowed, found it difficult to do so around the tightness in his chest, and then he crawled all the way onto the bed. He shifted up, on his knees and shuffled awkwardly the last few inches to get close enough to tend to Arthur’s hair.

He accepted the comb when Arthur held it out.

“Why didn’t you let my mother trim this?” he asked absently, trying to decide the best way to approach the task. “She would have you know.” She’d cut Merlin’s the second day of their stay, chiding him for letting it go so long.

“She offered,” Arthur said with a soft chuff of laughter. “But then she admitted to me that you mentioned you rather admired the look.”

“I uh…”

“Roguish, I think she said you called it?” There was a playful lilt to Arthur’s teasing.

Cheeks going hot, Merlin couldn’t look Arthur in the eye. He focused instead on Arthur’s unruly fringe. Mostly dry, the burnished locks had lightened to pale, wispy gold and fell messily across Arthur’s brow. “Well, um,” his voice squeaked, and he noisily cleared his throat. “Well, I mean, if I’d known how troublesome it was going to be, perhaps I’d have insisted she give it a trim.” 

He gently pulled the comb through, untangling the few snarls and snags. The silken strands tickled his wrists and knuckles. Kneeling on the mattress, Merlin found his balance shifting as he worked toward the back of Arthur’s head, and he fumbled the comb while trying to steady himself. He caught himself with a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and felt Arthur reach out to curl fingers low at his hip.

“I’ve got you,” Arthur whispered.

This _couldn’t_ be his imagination… this had to mean what he so desperately wanted it to mean.

Trusting to hope, Merlin left the comb where it had already been lost in the sheets and he reached out instead, cupping Arthur’s lightly bristled jaw. The beard felt strange beneath his palm, texture wiry and plush both. He pushed his fingers into Arthur’s hair, to the curls that fell against Arthur’s neck and let his thumb sweep over Arthur’s cheekbone. Arthur’s eyelids fluttered closed, lashes splaying faint shadows against sun-touched skin.

A faint, low sound – barely a groan – slipped out on Arthur’s exhale, and he leaned into the cup of Merlin’s hand. Emboldened, Merlin swept his fingers through the strands curling at Arthur’s neck, twining the ringlets around his fingers. Then he drew back to lightly scrape his fingernails up Arthur’s nape and over his scalp. Beneath his hand, Arthur shivered.

He could feel that faint vibration even in the steadying hand Arthur had curved over his waist.

“Arthur,” Merlin knew his voice trembled, almost more than the fingers that touched his hip. “What… what is this?” He hated to ask, hated the need, hated to spoil this golden moment, but to confuse things would be even worse.

Arthur loosed another of those soft sighs, and he opened his eyes.

Merlin forced himself to meet that gaze.

“It’s… something, Merlin,” Arthur offered, his own tone a little sad but also matter of fact. He looked deep into Merlin’s eyes, his own wide, with inky black subsuming the skywater blue. “It’s a last chance.”

He’d expected it, but the admission still hurt. Oh, it _hurt_. Merlin pressed his lips tight against the myriad emotions that clogged his throat and threatened to spill out. Instead he gave a curt nod. “I understand,” he managed, though it was hoarse and jagged and felt like it tore at his throat.

Arthur frowned, and his hand curled tighter at Merlin’s waist, fingers pressing in with the intent of possession. “Merlin,” he began, sounding confused, and then his eyes narrowed and went wide in quick succession. His expansive eye-roll and sputtered sigh took Merlin completely by surprise.

At first; and then they began to sting. Merlin started to pull away. If Arthur found his sorrow annoying, well… Merlin didn’t have any reason to stay.

But Arthur clutched at him and wouldn’t let him draw back. “No,” he bit out, wry and annoyed but also so, so fond. “No, you idiot. You misunderstand.” His expression softened, going patient and as fond as his tone. “I only meant that it’s a last chance like this. As… well, almost as equals. Tomorrow I must be a king and you merely my servant.” This time Arthur ducked his head, like the admission was just too much genuine emotion to share. “These last weeks, it’s been… different. I wanted one last night of that, with you.”

Merlin still didn’t understand. “Just tonight, then?”

“No, Merlin,” Arthur insisted. “I mean that next time, it won’t be like this.”

“Next time?” Merlin echoed.

“Next time,” Arthur confirmed. He lifted the hand that had been resting casually on his own knee and hooked it in Merlin’s scarf, twisting it ‘round to get at the knot. “Next time,” he went on, softly, “I won’t be able to fall asleep listening to you breathe and wake to your grumbling at the dawn.” Deft fingers made quick work of untying the neckerchief and it fell away, forgotten, as that busy hand moved down to Merlin’s belt. “Next time, you’ll have to sneak in late and leave early enough you can slip back to your room without Gaius the wiser.”

“Next time,” he continued, somehow managing to unbuckle Merlin’s belt with only one hand, while the other stayed tight on Merlin’s hip, like it had been stuck there with tar, “you may have to leave the laundry to one of the maids, as I’ll need you to help me practice my speeches through the whole of an afternoon.”

“Next time,” Merlin began, understanding filling him with a strange, melancholy sort of joy, “I’ll be the one to fill your bath and fetch your dinner, and stay late to clean up after you. God only knows how you manage to make such a mess of it all. It’ll take hours, I’m sure.”

The gleam in Arthur’s eye turned wicked. “Next time, I’m quite sure you’ll have to polish _all_ of my armor.”

Merlin let out a mock-affronted squawk, both at the suggestion and the way that Arthur whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor.

Though he must’ve recognized the humor in it, the sound did give Arthur pause. “Uh, that is, if you’re actually interested in a _first_ time.” He didn’t take his hands from Merlin’s body, but he did lean far enough back to offer Merlin a truly horrendous attempt at a salacious grin.

It was finally Merlin’s turn to roll his eyes. “Of course, you dollophead.”

And, despite the questions and uncertainty and anticipation all whirling around in his belly, Merlin was the first to close that last gap between them, to catch Arthur’s lips with his own.

Arthur deepened the kiss almost immediately, using the hold he had on Merlin’s hip and a hand twisted in Merlin’s tunic to draw him closer. He teased at the seam of Merlin’s lips, tongue slipping inside the moment Merlin’s mouth parted. He met it with his own, refusing to stay passive, challenging Arthur with every lick and slick swipe.

He threaded both hands through Arthur’s hair, getting it twined around his fingers and clenching them tight.

Arthur moaned, low in his throat. The sound rumbled into Merlin’s chest. He tugged Arthur’s hair again, harder.

The moan shifted pitch, rising, into what was nearly a whimper.

“Is that,” Merlin asked, fighting to get the words past their spit damp lips, “why you grew it?” He punctuated the question by catching Arthur’s bottom lip in his teeth. He pressed down, just a bit, and drew back until it slipped free with a sharp snap.

Though Arthur made a noise that might’ve been an answer, it never found a voice as he was too busy trailing biting kisses along Merlin’s jaw.

Merlin threw his head back, exposing his throat, and he clutched at Arthur’s skull, the hair between his fingers going taut, when Arthur continued to alternate nipping and sucking all the way down to his bared neck and into the dip of his clavicle. The beard amplified the sensation; close to an irritant, a tickle, there was just enough roughness in the scrape and drag of coarser hairs to heighten the intensity of those biting kisses. After tonguing the hollow of Merlin’s collarbone until it felt numb from teeth and beard-burn both, Arthur worked his way back up the long line of Merlin’s throat, stopping finally to catch Merlin’s earlobe. With a low growl he did the same bite and tug that Merlin had.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed. The wanton husk of his own voice surprised him.

“Merlin,” Arthur replied, once again menacing Merlin’s ear with the gentle scrape of a tooth along the outer ridge. “I always wondered if they’d be sensitive,” he murmured, and then traced the curve of Merlin’s ear with his tongue.

A shudder worked its way down Merlin’s spine. “I didn’t think…” he panted, “they’d be quite so…” The thought went unfinished.

He tried to press closer, to feel Arthur’s body against his, but the awkward way they were positioned – him still on his knees and Arthur twisted to face him, with one leg still hanging over the edge of the bed – prevented the connection he craved.

“Arthur,” he gasped, loosening his fingers from Arthur’s hair and then rocking back on his heels.

“Wha…?” Arthur looked slightly dazed, and his lips were damp and red and swollen, and it was almost impossible not to lurch back into him to kiss him even further senseless.

Still, Merlin had a greater need and he manfully refrained. “We should undress. And we’ve the whole of this massive bed to sprawl on.” He demonstrated by falling over on his side, landing with a playful huff in the thick comforter.

Arthur gave a little shake of his head, like he was resettling his thoughts, and then grinned down at Merlin. “Sometimes, Merlin, you actually have a good idea.”

Merlin snorted. “Well, as that’s more often than you, I’ll accept the compliment.”

“Ha!” Though his laugh was mocking, there was nothing amusing about the way that Arthur looked when he quickly grabbed at the bottom of his loose tunic and tugged the thing up and over his head in one smooth motion.

It was ridiculous. He’d seen Arthur with his shirt off more times than he could count, yet it still never failed to draw his covetous gaze. He must not have been very good at hiding his desire, because Arthur preened. And when he stood and teased at the hem of his trousers, he locked a knowing gaze on Merlin.

Fortunately, he chose to spare Merlin’s sanity and pushed both trousers and pants down his thighs in a quick shove and stepped out of them when they puddled at his feet. He stood at the side of the bed, glorious in both his nakedness and the confidence in his body. And though he’d seen Arthur naked, it had always been in quickly averted glances or reflected in conveniently positioned mirrors. He took the long overdue opportunity to blatantly ogle.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Merlin breathed. He expected to feel embarrassed at expressing such a brazen thought, but no flush or surge of warmth followed the compliment.

Arthur, on the other hand, ducked his head and the whole of his chest pinked delightfully. The hue even chased down his muscle-padded belly to his groin, where his cock stood proud.

“Now you,” Arthur said, waving a hand vaguely.

“Hmm?”

“Get undressed, Merlin.”

“Oh, right.” He knew he didn’t look nearly as suave as Arthur as he shimmied out of his tunic and struggled to get his smallclothes and trousers shoved down far enough that he could kick them off, but if Arthur’s hot-eyed stare was any indication, he hadn’t minded the effort.

Arthur crawled back onto the bed, and he eased himself down, pressing bare skin against bare skin in slow, teasing increments. Merlin was tempted just to yank him down, to get their arms and cocks and legs all tight and tangled, but he enjoyed the tease as well. He touched each part of Arthur as it came into reach, mapping honeyed skin, and relearning how muscles and sinew felt without the barrier of cloth between flesh and fingers. He fitted his fingers into the divots of Arthur’s ribs, and contrasted the fluff of hair at his armpit with the wiry curls at his groin, and greedily studied the stretch of Arthur’s foreskin and the plush softness of the head of his cock.

Arthur panted into his throat and kissed him greedily and when he finally let their bodies come together, he rolled his hips into Merlin’s and rubbed their cocks together between their bellies. They grappled and rolled and rutted against each other with wanton abandon, kissing and kissing and kissing and breathing each other’s damp breaths.

“What do you want?” Arthur gasped out, eager and urgent. He couldn’t seem to get close enough, clutching at Merlin’s thigh and grasping at his ribs with desperately scrabbling fingers.

Merlin was too far gone to find an answer. “You,” he exhaled sharply. “Just you, Arthur. Any way that I can have you.”

“My mouth?” Arthur offered, and then laughed hoarsely at the way Merlin’s whole body jerked at the suggestion.

“Yes,” Merlin urged, “that. But I want to suck you too.”

“Oh god, yes.”

They both tried to turn at the same time, so Merlin rolled atop Arthur and pressed his shoulders into the mattress. “Like this?” he asked.

Arthur’s answer came in pushy hands, urging Merlin to turn, and then tugging his hips and easing Merlin’s leg over his chest. Almost before Merlin could get his hands around Arthur’s cock, his own was enveloped in the volcanic depths of Arthur’s mouth. He cursed and whimpered and fought against the urge to push down into that tight, wet heat.

Luckily, Arthur’s hands came up to grip his hips, controlling the rocking of his pelvis, and he used that hold to encourage Merlin into making slow, shallow thrusts.

The controlled tempo tamped down the edge of urgency, and the flick of something damp on the point of his chin drew Merlin back to himself. He realized he’d let his head fall forward and that Arthur’s cock was leaving a dewy trail of wetness on his skin. Merlin wrapped a fist around the base and lapped at the welling droplets on the tip of Arthur’s cockhead.

Arthur faltered, just for a moment, pulling Merlin’s hips too deep, too fast and he shoved them back up, spitting his cock out, choking and gasping.

“Arthur,” Merlin barked out, immediately contrite. “Oh, god. Are you all –”

But the nonverbal answer came before Merlin could even finish asking the question, as Arthur resettled his hands and urged Merlin to move his hips in a rolling kind of motion and then sucked Merlin’s cock back into his mouth.

This time, Merlin warned Arthur before he put his tongue on Arthur’s cock. “I’m going to taste you now,” he said, and took Arthur’s plaintive whimper as an acknowledgement.

Arthur tasted like skin and salt from the smear of precome, and a little bit like cloves – the herbed soap Merlin realized after a moment’s confusion – and the briny fluid continued to well up with each of Merlin’s exploratory licks and the broader swipes of his tongue. He laved the plummy flat side of Arthur’s cockhead and teased the slit. When Arthur’s body squirmed beneath him, Merlin finally let the whole of Arthur’s cock push up into his mouth.

He swallowed around it, finding it thicker and longer than he’d anticipated, and it pressed almost too deep and almost too hard against his soft palate, but Merlin relished the burn of it. He squeezed the base tight and slowly began to suck.

Though he’d slowed the rocking pace of Merlin’s hips, when his own was enveloped, Arthur increased the tempo again, once Merlin began to rhythmically bob his head. They managed to find an odd sort of syncopation between them. It built up all too quickly, and it wasn’t long before Merlin felt that tight clench deep in his balls and his belly.

Jerking his head away from Arthur’s cock, desperate for air and desperate with the need to chase his own orgasm, Merlin let out a dry-throated cry. “Arthur, oh… god, yes. Arthur!” He panted it into the crease of Arthur’s thigh, his whole body clenched, and went taut. And when Arthur released the guiding grip on his hips and slapped his arsecheek hard, Merlin gave a final few jerky, stuttering thrusts, deep into Arthur’s throat.

His orgasm burst free, rushing through him like a torrent and Merlin barely managed to get his cock free of Arthur’s mouth just as he started to come. It shuddered through him with the intensity of a powerful magic, electric and edging toward pain and through the haze of pleasure he thought he heard Arthur laughing. As the wave crested, he rocked his hips into empty air, feeling the last pulses aching to let loose; and then Arthur’s hand was there, tugging with quick, efficient motions, drawing the last of his come out ruthlessly.

“Oh, god, Arthur,” he whimpered. Arthur’s own cock was a hot brand against his cheek, but Merlin could barely lift his head. “I’ll… just uh. A moment…”

Somehow, Arthur managed to find coherence in those few, raspy words. “It’s alright, Merlin. I’ve got this.” Arthur’s own voice was wrecked and the knowledge that he’d been the cause of that gravelly intonation sent a weak little shiver through Merlin’s slackening cock.

The words themselves sunk in when Arthur’s fingers touched Merlin’s cheek. He blinked and blinked again and eventually recognized that Arthur was taking his own cock in hand.

“Oh… Arthur. No, I can.”

Arthur just nudged at him with an elbow. “Lay down, Merlin. Rest. But watch, please. I want you to watch.”

Though he shifted the bulk of his body off Arthur, Merlin pillowed his head on Arthur’s splayed thigh and laid one hand over Arthur’s stomach, worming the other beneath that same knee to rest gently on Arthur’s bollocks. “I’m watching,” he husked out.

The fingers that were draped loosely around the thick shaft closed into a tight grip. Merlin watched, dozy but aroused, as Arthur started to jack himself slowly.

“Can I, will this…” Merlin cupped and gently rolled Arthur’s balls in his palm.

“God, yes.”

He could see the tendons shift in Arthur’s forearm as his grip tightened.

“And this?” He pressed his first two fingers against that tight strip of skin below Arthur’s bollocks, stroking firmly.

Arthur’s next reply was a grunted, “Uhnnggg,” followed by an urgent, staccato, “More. Please,” as he stripped his cock faster.

Emboldened by that desperation, Merlin pushed a finger into the cleft of Arthur’s buttocks, teasing at his hole.

“Merlin,” Arthur cried out, so hoarse and airy it was barely audible. His hand was a speeding blur on his cock.

“Yeah, Arthur,” Merlin encouraged, and when he pushed that fingertip just past the tightly furled ring, Arthur croaked out a deep, throaty cry and his cock spurted messily all over his own belly and fingers and Merlin’s hand and forearm. It was the most scorchingly erotic thing Merlin had ever seen.

After pressing a quick kiss to Arthur’s lax fingers and then his softening cock, Merlin let Arthur bask while he crawled back up the bed until he could collapse again at Arthur’s side. Once he’d got his breath back, Arthur rolled to face him, and Merlin shifted, and they shared a pillow.

They lay in silence a very long while, and although Merlin knew he ought to be exhausted, he felt strangely energized instead.

Arthur was quiet, but equally wakeful, and he had an arm draped loosely over Merlin middle. He traced idle patterns into Merlin’s skin with a fingertip.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Arthur asked. The question rang strangely into the sex and skin-warmed air, like the humidity wrapped around it, muffling the words.

Even without clarification, Merlin knew what Arthur was asking. “What’s to talk about?” he said, the lightness belied by the clench of his teeth.

“I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be like this. Like it will need to be, tomorrow. I’m… sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Merlin insisted. He rolled closer into Arthur’s side, heedless of the sweat and semen smearing between the press of their skin. “Arthur, don’t be sorry. This was wonderful, truly, to feel like we’re just two men, with no kingdom and station keeping us apart. But I’d rather have you in whatever way that I can.”

He placed a hand over Arthur’s chest, flattening his palm and fingers until he could feel the still rapid beat of Arthur’s heart, steady and reassuring. “Even if it’s only every now and again, and even if has to be kept close, as a secret between us, I’d not give this away for anything.”

He meant to say more, _so much_ more, but Merlin realized just then that he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Arthur like _this_ ; open and bared to him, willing to lie and keep a secret for them both.

Not when there was another secret that might tear them apart.

Arthur must’ve sensed the change in Merlin’s mood or wondered at the way he’d curbed his words so suddenly. He placed his own hand over the one still splayed across his chest, and pressed it down, pinning it there.

“We’re just us here, Merlin. Not a king and not a servant. Just Merlin and Arthur. What is it?”

The truth choked him, but Merlin could only shake his head and rasp out, “I can’t. I’m sorry, Arthur.” He turned his face into the pillow, where the linen and down could soak up the hot tears he could feel pressing at his eyes, ready to spill free in a blink.

“Merlin, please look at me,” Arthur said softly. And then, “Merlin,” sharper, and insistent but still a plea. “Look at me, please.”

He couldn’t disobey, and when he looked across the small handspan that separated their faces – an uncrossable abyss – to see Arthur smiling softly, the first of those tears broke past the barrier of his lashes, dripping down to the bridge of his nose.

“Merlin,” Arthur repeated, and he was shaking his head in an expression Merlin would’ve called fond any other time but this. “Whatever it is, whatever truth you need to bare, you can do it now. We’re just us here, remember.” An odd smile pushed into one cheek. “I’m not anyone who can punish you for whatever terrible thing you’ve been hiding.”

For the second time that night, Merlin felt a thrum of impossible hope beginning to stir in his breast. It sounded… as if Arthur _knew_. That Arthur knew the truth of his magic and was giving him this one night, this one miraculous, unforgettable night, to finally lay down the burden of everything he’d kept hidden (or so he thought) for so very long.

Still, so many years of caution warred with that hope, and he hesitated.

Arthur lifted a brow. “C’mon, Merlin. One man to another. One friend to another.” And ohh, that was a low blow. “One lover…” he pressed.

Damn him.

“I can’t, Arthur. It will change everything.”

“Or nothing,” Arthur suggested with a shrug so casual it set Merlin’s teeth on edge.

“You have no idea –” he started.

Again, that brow went up. “Don’t I?”

Hope felt akin to pain when it was held so tight and close.

“Do you?”

Arthur leaned in, pressing his forehead to Merlin’s. This close, his eyes were a blur of muddled midnight. “As a man,” he said slowly, and so, _so_ careful, “I can look my friend and my lover in the eye and tell him that I don’t hate him for what he is.”

Merlin forced a swallow against a parchment dry throat. “And… as a king?”

The way the skin crinkled around Arthur’s eyes, Merlin knew he was smiling. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

“Arthur, that’s –”

Arthur shut him up with a kiss.

“Tonight, we can talk freely,” he said, once he’d pulled away from the lingering press of their lips. “Tomorrow, I expect this king will need the advice of his wise manservant about how to enact a rather drastic policy change in his kingdom.” His smile was irritatingly winsome.

Merlin wanted to push… to plead… to demand a straight answer. But, he didn’t; because he only had tonight. Tonight, to share everything… to unburden himself of all the weighty secrets and lies that he’d shouldered for so very long.

“How did you know?” he asked finally, surprising himself with the question. He hadn’t wondered until just that moment.

From the smile that played at Arthur’s lips, Merlin knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Uh, if you must know, it was your mother.”

“My mother?” Merlin blurted. He bolted upright, propping himself on a hand so he could glare down at Arthur in disbelief. “No. No way. She wouldn’t.”

Arthur’s nose scrunched up in that way it did when he didn’t want to admit something. “If it helps,” he said, still far too casual for this whole conversation, “she thought I knew. And once she realized, she was devastated.” He shook his head, expression going strange. Merlin couldn’t quite place it. “She offered to take your place if I’d spare you. In the dungeons, on the headsman’s block, even on the pyre.”

Awe. It was awe that lit Arthur’s eye.

Merlin couldn’t feel ashamed of the blur in his eyes or the quick sniffle that slipped out. “Of course, she did.”

“We spoke, at some length, about you.” Arthur laughed softly. “She is a formidable woman, your mother. She took the brunt of my anger and betrayal and hurt, and at the end of it all she still held me close and patted my hair and told me that everything would work out all right in the end. And, that you and I were two sides of the same coin.” He shrugged, a bit bashfully. “Whatever that means.”

“When did this happen?” He tried to recall a time where Arthur and his mother had been alone together long enough for such a conversation to take place.

“That day you and Lancelot rode to the blacksmith, to get the wagon irons.”

Thinking back, Merlin was dumbfounded. “But that was _before_ you sent the knights home. Before you’d decided that you and I were going to stay a few more days in Ealdor…”

Arthur just continue to smile at him.

“That’s why we stayed,” Merlin realized. “You… what? Wanted to decide what to do about me?”

“Not exactly,” he paused, patting the blanket and inviting Merlin to lie back down. When he hesitated too long, Arthur yanked his arm out from under him and Merlin collapsed back into the bedcovers.

“There,” Arthur stated, ignoring Merlin’s glower. “After your mother nearly boxed my ears, I’d already made my decisions.”

Merlin frowned. “Then why did we stay?”

“Because of this,” he gestured between them. “Because it was my opportunity to know you, Merlin. Not my manservant, but you as a man and as my friend.”

“And now lover?” Merlin asked, still hesitant.

Grin growing wide and wild, Arthur nodded. “Definitely that.” He started to say more but was interrupted by a yawn.

The night was catching up to Merlin as well, he realized.

“We should rest,” Arthur said, “it’s been a long day, and a wonderful, if exhausting, night.” He ducked his head in, catching Merlin’s mouth in a teasing kiss.

By unspoken accord, Merlin untangled the bedcovers while Arthur managed to hook a damp towel with a reaching foot, and he wiped the both of them down. Merlin waited until he’d tossed the cloth aside and nestled into the pillows, then he drew the heavy comforter over the pair of them. They spent a few moments shifting and rearranging limbs, but coming together felt utterly wholly right, like missing pieces of masonry slotting into place.

“Merlin,” Arthur grumbled several minutes later.

Merlin made a muzzy sort of noise in reply.

A hand slapped weakly at Merlin’s hip. “Get the candles will you.”

“Ugh.” About to slip out of the cocooning warmth of Arthur’s bed and Arthur’s embrace, Merlin suddenly remembered.

“Bærn,” he whispered, and the candleflames were extinguished.

Arthur didn’t say anything, but even in the dark Merlin could see his lips thin out into a soft, and ridiculously affectionate smile.

Sleep drew heavily at Merlin’s eyes and he shifted just a bit closer.

And then he gave a soft, irritable groan.

“Hrmmm?”

“Next time,” Merlin murmured, “you get to sleep in the wet spot.”

Arthur’s agreeable reply faded into an airy snore, “Next time…”

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this work comes from the Our Lady Peace song "All You Did was Save My Life" - which I will likely end up quoting in its' entirety via fic titles at some point.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ART for "I Owe Every Breath to You"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24508525) by [siennavie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siennavie/pseuds/siennavie)




End file.
